Two Original Loire Varieties

Pineau is assuredly on the menu in the recondite forms of Menu Pineau (a white variety that has dropped through the oubliette of fashion) and the red Pineau d’Aunis, better known, but still liable to elicit a glassy-eyed what? from all but the most nerdish of wine afficionados. But though we at Les Caves are snappersup of unconsidered trifles, these wines have a more substantial interest as they are living, drinking proof of traditional Loire wines and therefore worth the detour.

Originel Blanc, Julien Courtois 2004

I’m going to nail my taste-buds to the standard here – this is my wine. While it is certainly mad enough to appeal to my warped sensibility, it also has a sheer honesty that seems bring a smile of bemused lack of recognition to all who taste it. I enjoy its unorthodoxy on all levels; I’m content to delve into its undoubted pelagic depths at my leisure.

Situated in the heart of Sologne, 35 km from Blois, Claude Courtois and his son Julien elaborate their wines according to ancestral methods and are zealous advocates of natural wine.  “Nature admits no lie”, as Carlyle said, and Courtois (Claude) often says that his wine is made from “true grapes”, pointing out that the French vineyards are generally doped with chemicals in order to guarantee bigger yields. There is a price to pay for whereas a vigneron using chemicals can tend ten hectares by himself, in bio it takes three people. The first time Eric met Claude Courtois the latter was digging a hole in the ground on his estate. “What’s the hole for?” Eric asked. “To bury my enemies”, replied Claude darkly. You spray at your peril in his proximity.

Originel is a reference to the taste and methods of production of traditional white wines in this region of the Loire and Cher. The producers of Menu Pineau, a typical white variety of this region, can be counted on the fingers of one hand and number Claude Courtois, Julien’s father, and the Puzelats. The variety is also locally known as Arbois and Verdet as the grapes on certain vine remain green even at full maturity. Judged as poor in quality and less modish than Sauvignon it is not planted any more, surviving purely thanks to certain local sweet wines where it forms a minor part of the blend. Here it responds well to the extremely low yields (20 hl/ha), a third of the average for this admittedly rare variety. The specific terroir – silica and flint over clay and flint – linked to the upbringing of the wine (twelve months in barriques) confers a great deal of complexity to the final wine. A silky ensemble, both racy and powerful with ripe fruits on top of secondary aromatics of menthol, gentiane and butter and churned cheese. Carafe this wine two hours before drinking. When you drink it the following thoughts will trickle into your mind. Is it oxidised and is the wine meant to taste like this? Stop analysing, start enjoying.

I describe this as “like Chenin on acid” (man) because I pick up many of that grape’s signature aromas: wax, hay, marzipan and ripe cheese. The palate has a surprise bite of nervous acidity which brings all the aromas and flavours into clear focus. Someone at the France Under One Roof tasting observed that it reminded them an apple tarte tartin (an upside down one, surely?). Or to give it an alliterative skip how about “liquid tart tarte tatin”? Like all interesting wines this Originel changes in the glass. Bring on the Brie de Meaux!

Cotes du Vendomois, Domaine de Montrieux 2005

The name “Pineau” rhymes with “Pinot” and comes from the same linguistic root that translates as “pine cone,” presumably from the imagined shape of grapes hanging in bunches on the vine. It’s not a member of the Pinot family, though; nor, says Jancis Robinson in her “Guide to Wine Grapes,” is it “Red Chenin,” although Loire growers sometimes give it the alternative name “Chenin Noir.”
In fact, it’s an individual variety all its own, bearing small black grapes and with a history in the Loire that goes back to medieval times and supped enthusiastically by the court of Henry III. If casually grown and greedily harvested, it makes an insipid wine and is mostly used nowadays, if at all, in blends with Cabernet Franc and other varieties in reds and rosés.

But the idiosyncratic producer Thierry Puzelat (see still does it the old-fashioned way, nurturing very old Pineau d’Aunis vines and pruning back to ensure very small yields of very intense grapes. The result, like most good Loire reds, might not please those who prefer big, bold, in-your-face blockbusters; but if you enjoy subtlety and intriguing minerality in your wine, then this will be your bag of herbs and stone-fruit.

Domaine de Montrieux was created in 1999 by Emile Heredia. The parcels of vines were chosen for their quality: the old age of the vines, the quality of the soils and the expositions. Soils are flint with clay on top of limestone. The age of the vines permits a natural reduction of the yields and deep root systems assure minerality and intensity of the wines.

In order to improve equilibrium and life of the soil and to allow flora and fauna to flourish no chemical products are employed. Sulphur and copper are only used in tiny doses and tisanes made from horsetail and nettle ensure effective phytosanitary protection. Manual harvest respects the quality of the grapes and yields are tiny: 35 hl/ha from densely planted old Pineau d’Aunis vines. To further this natural approach neither artificial yeasts nor other additives are used in the winemaking process except for a smidge of sulphur at bottling.

The wine produced is an exact reflection of the vintage, the terroir and the work of men.

When making his red wines Heredia has delved into the past to rediscover traditional techniques, such as using open barrels to crush the grapes underfoot, then closing them and waiting until the festival of Paques. Heredia works in a similar hands-on, foot-down way, observing the rhythms of the natural calendar. The fermentation occurs in barrels which have been used to make eight previous wines and after the malo has finished in May the wine is bottled.

After a natural semi-carbonic maceration the wine obtained is light, spicy with delicate tannins. The first time I tasted this Coteaux du Vendomois I was impressed by its sheer freshness and funky bounce. A cheeky whiff of white pepper is quickly followed by a lovely minerality reminiscent of rainwater washing over limestone. Wild strawberries follow, ripe and sweet, leading into a tart, bone-dry red-berry flavour that’s light-bodied but mouth-filling. Lemony acidity, subtle berries and white pepper linger in a long finish. It is be drunk fresh, its mineral, peppery side helps it to marry with grills, charcuterie, cheese and even fish. I could see this as my summer red, with a bottle of perpetually magnetised to the inside of my fridge during those months without a vwl in them. Heck – I’ll drink this wine in months that have a consonant in them as well.

The second occasion I assayed the wine was at the Thomas Cubitt with buyer/sommelier Simon Howland. This time the wine seemed fleshier, offering aromas of sour cherry, almond, thyme, and fennel. Bright and juicy yet also dense and creamy on the palate, with rich black cherry fruit and an invigoratingly tart fruit skin edge and chalky undertone, this practically exploded with concentrated bitter black cherry, plum, and herbal elixirs in a finish also marked by a continued counterpoint of creaminess with subtle chalk and fruit skin astringency. I polished off the remainder of the bottle with some chorizo-topped pizza and it was mighty fine, but if you force me to don the ticking toque… I’m thinking terrine of rabbit, I’m thinking rillons, I’m thinking pigeon en croute, I’m thinking grilled salmon with samphire – better stop thinking and start cooking.